Complicated Truths and Simple Lies
by Appello
Summary: Just your average romance between the powerpuff girls and rowdyruff boys. Written as a bit of a joke, but it turned out alright. Traditional pairings
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello all! Hope somebody reads this and enjoys it. Would love to know what you think, anyway. Happy reading…**

There was nothing to do. Buttercup sighed and turned off the television, stretching her legs and examining her reflection in the mirror critically. She was pale, much too pale; her raven black hair and blood red lips stood out vividly against her skin. Enough of this; what she needed was a walk in the sun, with no distractions, no homework, and no _monsters. _

"I'm going out," she announced abruptly, standing up. Bubbles glanced up from her position on the floor, where she was pouring over an assignment for school.

"Going where?"

"Just out," she replied grumpily, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation. "I don't know when I'll be back." She grabbed her bag and charged towards the door before her sister could interrogate her further.

Outside the sky was a clear, spotless blue, already fading with the beginnings of dusk. Her spirits lifted, Buttercup headed down the street, letting her feet carry her without direction. Not a single person looked at her in recognition, of which she was grateful. Townsville had grown extensively in the 13 years since Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had managed to close the monster portal which allowed sentient beings to rise to the earth's surface and terrorise the city. These days hardly anyone recognised the three sisters, thanks in part to the new disguises they now wore when on duty, and the larger, more anonymous population. It had become so much easier to be a regular teenager once everyone stopped asking her to show them her special powers.

Looking up, Buttercup realised she had found her way to the beach. It was nearing the end of the day, but there were still plenty of people lazing on the sand. She recognised a few people from school waving at her, and half-heartedly made her way towards them, fixing a smile in position.

"Buttercup," yelled Samantha, jumping enthusiastically on the spot. "How _are _you? I haven't seen you in _ages. _That dress looks _so _nice on you, B. I _love _your hair. Come, sit down," she gestured next to her, shifting over slightly on he towel. Buttercup hesitated.

"Yeah, relax for a while," said a girl she didn't recognise, nodding vigorously. "How has your weekend been?"

Suspicion began to fester in Buttercup's stomach, and she cast her mind backwards in search of what could possibly be of interest to them. Suddenly she remembered; her date with Billy Carter.

"So…" Samantha's eyes gleamed cunningly. "Saturday night…"

With a resigned sigh, Buttercup settled herself on the sand. "It was alright," she shrugged, embarrassment reddening her cheeks. She really didn't want to talk about Billy Carter to these girls. In reality the date had gone well; they had kissed, and she had promised to consider his proposition of another date the following Saturday. But she had no interest in him, and probably never would. "Nothing really happened."

"Nothing happened?" the unnamed girl was looking at her incredulously. "You spent four hours alone with the cutest guy in school, and nothing happened? Did you kiss him?"

"Yeah," she turned her head away, eyes scanning the rest of the beach for an excuse to leave. Further along, a young couple played joyously with their newborn child, and a group of teenage boys loitered near the jetty. Buttercup shifted restlessly, then stood up. "It was nothing to write home about. Look, I have to go; see you guys at school." Without waiting for a reply, she strode off, leaving her friends staring wide eyed after her.

A chill wind began to blow across the shore, whipping her thick hair into her face. Buttercup drew out a sweater from her bag and wrapped it around herself, shivering. For a while she fiddled with the buttons, before abandoning them and leaving it open. When she looked up, she was standing within a few feet of the loitering boys she had seen earlier; they were older than she'd thought, older than her. One of them called out something to her, and they laughed. Buttercup turned a fierce glare on them, not sure whether she had the patience to ignore them.

"Hey, wa-chika," shouted the one closest too her, gesturing her over with a long, skinny arm. Buttercup hovered on the spot, judging the distance between them. "Come here!"

Shaking her head, she turned on the spot and began walking up the sand dune, but they were quicker and blocked her path, their expressions menacing. A bad feeling began to swell inside her stomach, and she shrank instinctively into a defensive position. But she could hardly take on these five men single-handedly without drawing attention to herself; and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Why're you leaving in such a hurry?" asked one, advancing towards her. She took a step backwards, only to find she had been surrounded. This was not what she'd had planned for an afternoon on the beach. "That's not very nice you know."

"What?" her teeth were clenched so tightly, she could barely force the word out.

"Being all unfriendly like that," he smiled grotesquely, and she could feel him tense in anticipation. "It hurts our feelings, you know that."

"Oh yeah?" behind her calm demeanour, her brain was working furiously. She could try to fly through them, but that would most definitely be noticed; fighting them would certainly show them a lesson, but how would she explain herself afterwards.

"Yeah…we might have to teach you how to be nice," said one of them from behind her, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her body went tight, and she prepared to fight. It looked like she would have no other choice.

"Problem?"

The hand on her shoulder withdrew hastily, and the gang stepped backwards. Confused, Buttercup turned around, and raised her eyebrows in surprise as she saw who had interrupted her. Butch stood slightly apart from the group, a burning cigarette hanging carelessly in his hand, his black hair wind-swept and dishevelled, and a sarcastic, pompous smile upon his handsome face.

"Uh…no. We were just, just messing around," beads of sweat began to form on the boys' faces, and they glanced nervously at each other. Butch and his brothers had only been living in Townsville for a year, but they had managed to earn themselves a reputation as people nobody wanted to mess with. And right now he was looking particularly vindictive.

"I hope so," he said, ignoring the boys and looking straight at Buttercup, who squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "Because if there's one thing I truly hate, it's people who take advantage of innocent young girls." The corner of his lips twitched. "Now scram."

The gang of boys scattered hastily, shooting furtive looks behind them as they scampered up the beach. Butch leaned back on his heels, looking pleased with himself. He was _intolerable._

"I didn't need you to help me," Buttercup said harshly, her annoyance getting the better of her. "I was managing quite well by myself."

"I could see that," replied Butch, taking a long drag on his cigarette and blowing the smoke in her direction. A pair of girls walking past in bikinis smiled flirtatiously at him, and he waved casually back, causing them to break into giggles. Buttercup rolled her eyes.

"You are such a jerk."

Butch bowed. "At your service. Smoke?"

"What?" she blinked, the question catching her by surprise.

"I said do you want a-"

"I heard what you said," she snapped. She shouldn't be standing around talking to this idiot; she had much better things to do with her time. But for some reason her feet remained rooted in the sand. For a few seconds she just stood there, arguing silently with herself. "No thanks."

"Suit yourself," Butch shrugged, and turned to go. "Well, if you're not in need of my rescue services any longer, your highness, I'll be going."

The angry retort bubbled out of her lips before she could stop herself; "Hey I killed you, remember?"

With an angry scowl, Butch twisted to look at her. It was a sore point for him, she knew; their confrontation in kindergarten, where Buttercup and her sisters had managed to defeat their 'evil' male counterparts, created by Mojo Jojo, and later resurrected by Him, on a number of occasions. It hurt his pride, she was sure, to think of a _girl _defeating him, and she knew it was petty of her to rub it in, especially when she really did owe him for dealing with those twats. Still, it was too late to take the words back now.

Seeming to recover, Butch fixed a smile on his face. But his next words sent a chill down Buttercup's spine. "Perhaps, but that was nearly fourteen years ago. Today, I'd kick your ass. And you know it."

Both their smiles faded, and they remained staring at each other for a long time. Buttercup tasted blood and realised she had been biting her tongue. With a frustrated sigh, she shook her head at him and darted away, suddenly in desperate need of the comfort of her own home.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of cooking hit her as soon as she opened the front door

The smell of cooking hit her as soon as she opened the front door. Blinking, Buttercup hastened to the kitchen, where she found Bubbles slaving over the stove, her face pink with exertion, and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun that did not quite manage to control her wild curls, which peeked out of their restraint and bounced livelily around her face.

"What ya doin Bubs?" she asked, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a huge bite. Her sister turned to her with a frown.

"Making dinner. I'm not sure that I've done it exactly right though. It's gone sort of…" she prodded the pot nervously, her large blue eyes shining with apprehension.

"Smells alright." Buttercup shrugged, and sat herself down at the kitchen bench. "Where's Blossom?"

Bubbles mumbled something.

"What?"

"I said she's gone out with Carl. I think they've gone to a science exhibition or something. She's probably not even going to be home for dinner."

Buttercup snorted, and hid her face in her apple. Blossom's long-term boyfriend, Carl Jenkins, would have to be the biggest nerd on the planet; he had met the Professor at Townsville University, where he was studying quantum physics, or something similarly unpronounceable. Buttercup knew for a fact that they had done nothing but kiss, even though they had been going out for almost an entire year. All they did was talk science and watch Star Wars together; it made her want to puke.

"Right," Buttercup scraped her chair backwards, and polished off her apple, throwing the core at the bin. It missed, and splattered juicily against the floor. Hurriedly, she bent over to retrieve it. "Well, I'll be off then."

With a cry of outrage, Bubbles turned a stricken look on her. "What? You're leaving as well? You mean I cooked all this food and there's going to be nobody here to eat it?"

"Save it for later," advised Buttercup, pecking her lightly on the cheek.

"You only just got home. Why do you have to go out again?" complained Bubbles.

Cocking her head to the side, Buttercup considered the question. She had been so desperate to get home a minute ago, after her encounter with the erroneous Butch. Now, the walls of the house felt stifling, and she longed again for the fresh air. Ludicrous; it was dark, and cold, and she didn't really have anywhere to go. By wandering around the streets of Townsville in the early evening she was only asking for trouble; what if she ran into Butch again? He would probably want to rub in _again _that he had gotten her out of a tight spot, and she would have to tolerate that smug smile once more, while all the while fighting hard not to hit him. Because that was all she really wanted to do, wasn't it?

"Buttercup?"

"What?" she looked up at her sister, realising she had been standing there for several minutes in utter silence. Confused, she shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, which she had cut only recently into a short, pixie-ish bob.

"I _said_," continued Bubbles in her most petulant voice, pouting sullenly. "I don't see why you have to leave again so soon. You and Blossom are never around anymore…it's so _boring." _She looked as if she may cry.

"I promise I will eat all of your food when I come back," Buttercup smacked her lips in mock anticipation, but Bubbles' eyes continued to well with tears. Torn between sisterly love and her sudden, intense desire to be outside, Buttercup hesitated. Finally, reaching her decision, she sat back down on the table and rubbed her stomach. "On second thoughts, sis, I don't think I can wait for this dinner. Professor!" she called loudly, and heard an answering grumble from the study. "Dinner's ready. Come and eat, I'm starving."

With a squeal, Bubbles threw her hands up. "But I haven't even warmed the plates up yet," she moaned, flustering about like a middle-aged housewife. "Quick, Buttercup, help me set the table. Oh no, what are we going to drink? I really could have used an extra few minutes you know!"

Buttercup laughed. "You're going to make an excellent wife one day Bubs." She thought absently of the boys on the beach today, and Butch: handsome, arrogant, stupid Butch, as annoying in his absence as he was in real life, and her mirth faded. "An excellent wife."

Her sister looked at her strangely. "So will you," she said, planting a plate of steaming food in front of her and sniffing sagely. The Professor walked in, massaging his back, and joined the two girls at the table.

"So will she what?"

"Be a good wife," replied Bubbles, wincing in pain as Buttercup trod on her foot. "What?"

"Buttercup," scolded the Professor kindly. "I hope you're not planning on becoming a good wife anytime soon. You're only seventeen, after all."

"She has to get a boyfriend first," giggled Bubbles. "Though I'm sure Billy Carter would be happy to oblige there."

Billy Carter. She had forgotten about him. Buttercup blushed scarlet and scowled at the blue girl across the dinner table; why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut? You didn't hear her babbling on about all of Bubbles' secrets. Not that she had any. The biggest secret in Bubbles life was that she had accidentally used the wrong herbs in dinner. How could she know not to talk about these things over tea when she had no experience in them herself? She was just too innocent.

"So who is this Billy Carter?" asked the Professor casually. Too casually. Buttercup could feel an interrogation coming on. She ducked her head into her plate and took a huge mouthful of food to avoid having to speak. At last, after she had chewed for twice as long as normal, she was forced to speak.

"Nobody. Just a friend. I don't want to talk about it." She sounded curt and unfriendly, but that was just too bad. She really didn't want to talk about it.

The Professor shifted in his chair. "Is he a friend of Butch's?"

Buttercup froze, fork halfway to her mouth, wondering if she had misheard her father.

"Huh?"

"I said does he know Butch?"

Her face reddened instinctively, and she glowered at her broccoli. "Butch? What does Butch have to do with anything? I haven't talked to him in years," she fought to keep the irritation out of her voice, not wanting to arouse their suspicions; Bubbles was already eyeing her curiously. "Why are you bringing him up now?"

"Well," the Professor played with his food, a small frown on his face. "He rang earlier while you were still out, said he'd seen you on the beach and that you'd dropped something. He told me to tell you that he'll return it to you at school."

"Whatever," she muttered, her mind ticking over thoughtfully. She couldn't have dropped anything. But why on earth would Butch lie about something like that? And how random for him to ring her home, when he knew she would not be there. Maybe he was just playing mind games with her, wanting to stress her out. Yes, that was it. He was just being his usual jerkish self, and messing with her head. Well, she wasn't having a bar of it. She wasn't some silly schoolgirl who swooned at the slightest sign of attention from a cute guy; she was a Powerpuff Girl. And Butch…well, he didn't factor into the equation.


	3. Chapter 3

Mornings were the worst. By far. She hated having to wake up so early, but now that they weren't allowed to fly in public it made transport a lot more time consuming. She had never bothered learning to drive, and she refused to ride with Blossom and Bubbles in their hideous car. The only other option was to walk.

Now, as she tied the laces on her boots and tried to smooth her sleep-ruffled hair, Buttercup regretted her laziness. It wasn't as if the walk was that bad; it was more the fact that she had to get up at least half an hour earlier than her sisters to arrive at school on time. At least, she thought, trying to stay positive, it gave her time to think and rearrange her thoughts before she became swamped with the idiots who inhabited Townsville High.

Billy Carter was waiting for her outside school, leaning against the rail with a huge, stupid grin plastered across his face. She had no other choice but to return his wave and make a beeline for him. Monday was not looking to be a good day.

"B!" Billy loped an arm over her shoulders and kissed her casually on the cheek, as if they had been dating for years. Buttercup raised an eyebrow at him, and he released her with a wry look. "Sorry. I'm just glad to see you, that's all. How are your sisters?"

"Uh…fine," she replied vaguely, thrown by the unexpected question.

"How was the rest of your weekend?"

"Good."

"Really? We won the football, you know; I scored a couple of points. It was a good game. You should have been there. What did you do Sunday?" He fired words at her like a pinball machine.

"Uh…"she had just spotted Butch, sprawled on the grass outside the front of the school. He was looking straight at her and Billy, a strange look upon his face. Hastily, she turned away. "Uh…sorry?"

"B are you alright? You look a little pale," Billy leaned in, a handsome smile lighting his features. Buttercup allowed him to kiss her gently on the lips, then pulled back. "I'm sure I can make you feel better."

"Hah, yeah….look, I have to get to class. I'll see you at lunch, okay?" for the first time that morning, she looked at Billy square in the face. He was looking at her suspiciously, his eyebrows drawn together. Buttercup decided that she did not like blondes. She began to walk away.

"Buttercup," he pulled her back towards him, catching her in his arms in what was obviously meant to be a romantic gesture. "Can I do one more thing?"

"What?"

"You look beautiful today."

Without warning, he leant down and kissed her, his tongue parting her lips and exploring the inside of her mouth. With an effort, Buttercup forced herself to close her eyes, slow her breathing, and kiss him back. After what seemed like minutes, rather than seconds, Billy released her, and pushed her away from him, his face flushed.

"See you at lunch."

Nodding, Buttercup took the stairs two at a time to save time. She reached the top just as the bell went signalling the beginning of class. Butch had not moved from his position on the lawn, his eyes still fixed unswervingly on her. He looked angry now; she could feel the heat emanating from his green eyes all the way up the stairs. Unnerved, Buttercup spun on her heel and hurried inside, trying to shake the intensity of Butch's glare, and the feeling of Billy's lips on hers. It was definitely going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yay

**A/N: Yay! A Blossom chapter. Sorry it's taken so long to update, school and assignments sort of overwhelmed me for a while there. Still, better late than never, don't they say? Anyway, enjoy the chapter. **

Blossom excelled at science. It was the one subject where she felt completely confident in everything she did, and where she barely had to try to understand, whereas most other kids struggled night after night and still didn't do as well as her. Walking into her Chemistry classroom, she felt utterly comfortable and prepared, even more so when she realised they were doing an experiment. Smiling, she waved cheerily at Bonny, her lab partner, and settled herself into a seat.

For a minute there was silence as students took their respective positions and opened their books, then the teacher launched himself into a detailed explanation of what they were studying and how they were to go about their tasks. Looking around, Blossom watched as one by one the members of the class faded away, their eyes growing distant and vague, their mouths drooping in boredom. It didn't make sense to her, as she listened avidly to what Professor Briggs was saying, and raised her hand to answer each and every one of his questions, why her classmates did not share her same love of Chemistry. Sure, she had been raised in a laboratory, with a scientist for a father, but that still didn't explain everything; Buttercup and Bubbles, for example, had been created in the very same lab as she, yet neither of them seemed at all captivated by their father's profession. Maybe she was just special. Satisfied, Blossom tuned her attention back to her teacher.

"Now it is very important that you measure out the exact amount of sulphuric acid, and remember-"

There was a loud crash, and the door to the classroom burst open, slamming wildly against the wall and shaking so violently Blossom was sure it would break. Somebody behind her let out a frightened squeak.

In the doorway stood a boy, tall and lanky, with scruffy, near dreaded copper hair, smothered by a ludicrous red cap planted awkwardly on the top of his head. His pants looked as if they would fall off if he moved, and his shirt was so baggy it probably would have fit another person inside. His eyes shone dull auburn in the dim light of the chemistry lab, and his mouth was twisted in a mocking smile.

Brick. With a disdainful sniff, Blossom turned her head away from her childhood nemesis and focused on her notes. In the entire year that Brick and his idiotic brothers had returned to Townsville, Blossom had seen her male counterpart only sporadically, usually at school, skipping class to smoke with Butch and Boomer. Once she had seen him taken to the principle's office for allegedly setting off the fire alarm, but other than that, there had been little contact between them. She had not spoken a single word to him.

"May I help you, young man?" Mr Briggs eyed him critically, his moustache bristling. Brick sauntered over to his desk and fished a note out of his pocket. As it was read, he scanned the room, and winked when he caught her eye. Turning bright red, Blossom averted her eyes. He couldn't possibly be in this class, she reasoned. He was not the sort of student who took chemistry; he was not the sort of student who took anything at all.

"I see," Mr Briggs looked up, his expression thoughtful. "Well, I hope you enjoy our class, Mr…uh, Mr Brick. Now, who shall I partner you with? It will have to be someone who understands the subject thoroughly…let's see." Hastily Blossom lowered her head, but it was too late. She cursed her hair for making her so conspicuous. "Ah, Blossom. You'll be perfect. You even have the same, uh…the same…" he fell silent at a withering look from the pair of superhumans. "Right. Well, on you go class. Forty minutes to complete the experiment. Chop chop!"

As casual and conceited as ever, Brick sloped over to where Blossom was sitting and dropped his bag at her feet. Without even glancing at her, he spread his arms across their desk and lay his head down on them, closing his eyes. Blossom stared at him, outraged; did he actually think he could just go to sleep while she did all the work?

"Excuse me," she said in her most regal voice. Brick didn't move. "Excuse _me_," she repeated, prodding him on the shoulder when he didn't answer again. This did not merit a response either. Bristling with indignity, Blossom looked over at the Professor, but he was busy instructing some less able students. Obviously she would have to deal with this dimwit all by herself. Leaning over, she spoke loudly and clearly in his ear.

"Excuse me, but I need this desk to do the experiment. You need to move!" Losing her patience, she gave him a shove. Finally, Brick sat up and looked at her, his expression incredulous.

"Are you for real?" His eyes ran up and down her body briefly, and smirked. "Princess, who the hell do you think you are?"

"My name is-"

"I know what your fucking name is!"

Speechless, Blossom stared at him, unable to believe he had just sworn, out loud, in the middle of a science class. It was unbelievable; _he _was unbelievable. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out. Brick rolled his eyes.

"Look, your highness, I don't do science. Okay? I just _don't _doit. So don't bother tyring to convert me with your ridiculous mumbo jumbo, because I'm not _interested. _All I want to do is sleep, and get this stupid class over and done with. Right? Are we finished?"

"But-" she spluttered, astonished at his rudeness. "But-"

"There is no but. Now, you do your thing, and I'll do mine. Simple as that," he rested his head back on the table, and closed his eyes. Bright red with anger, Blossom threw down her own pencil and crossed her arms, too flustered to work. Together, they sat in stony silence until the bell went, and were still ignoring each other as they left the classroom.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I am so, so, so incredibly sorry that it has been a whole THREE months since I last updated…there are no excuses, except to say that doing year 12 is really tightening my spare time

**A/N: I am so, so, **_**so **_**incredibly sorry that it has been a whole THREE months since I last updated…there are no excuses, except to say that doing year 12 is really tightening my spare time. I can no longer use this story as a deliberation from my study…exams are just around the corner….**

**Anyway, enough about my life story. To compensate for my extreme lameness in the updating department, I will put two chapters up this time instead of one. Also, I need to hurry this story along a little bit, because I just can't wait to get you all up to the good parts. Mwahahaha…well, happy reading, and remember how much I love a review. They really keep my spirits up…**

There had been no sighting of Butch since the morning. Buttercup had scoured the corridors for him, and even went so far as to visit the oval during lunch to see if he was there, but to no avail. He seemed to have vanished from school for the day. Annoyance tightened Buttercup's body as she paced through the halls one last time on the way to her locker; she needed to find him quickly and reclaim whatever it was she had dropped at the beach; the last thing she wanted was to be chasing Butch around any longer than she had to. But it looked, however, as if she would have to wait at least another day.

So it was with great surprise that Buttercup rounded the first corner of her route home and found herself face to face with a pair of large green eyes, and a mop of untidy black hair. Stopping dead in her tracks, she blinked several times, trying to determine if it was an apparition or if Butch really was standing in front of her. Deciding on the latter, she folded her arms crossly.

"I've been looking for you all day," she snapped, feeling irrationally frustrated. Butch raised his eyebrows.

"Have you now? Well I've been around. Where's your toy boy?"

Caught off-guard, Buttercup stuttered. "Wh-what? Who?"

"You know who I mean," Butch jumped up and down on the balls of his feet, a tendency he had maintained from his early childhood. "That faggot, Carter, the one I smashed a few months ago. Shouldn't he be on your heels?"

"He's at football training," she lied. In truth she had no idea where he was; she had gone out of her way to avoid him after school.

Butch laughed mockingly, shaking his head. "Oh…man."

"At least he doesn't sit around smoking and doing nothing all day!" She didn't even know why she was defending Billy; she had a sneaking suspicion it was more to start a fight with Butch than anything.

"You know, you're right," he replied sarcastically, his voice taking on a dangerous new pitch that sent shivers down her spine. "I just _wish _I was out there on a patch of mouldy green, in a hideous uniform, kicking a piece of dried leather around the field and smashing into other boys' bodies. That would just be so _fulfilling_."

"Jerk," with a surge of anger, Buttercup pushed him roughly, and, to her immense surprise, he pushed her back, just as hard. She stumbled slightly in shock, regaining her footing and quivering with indignation. "You're just jealous," she finally choked out, extracting a strange sort of vindication from the murderous look her words evoked on Butch's face. It served him right for being rough with her.

"And you're just…" his jaw was tight, his eyes gleaming emerald in his anger.

"Just what?"

"A Powerpuff." Butch spat the word from his mouth as if it tasted sour. A heavy silence settled between them, and they looked away from each other. Next to her, Buttercup could feel him shaking, trying to control the urge to burst out into a flurry of physical activity that she knew plagued him whenever his emotions became too intense. She kept her eyes averted, focusing on her breathing, and by the time she had mustered the courage to look at him again, he was completely calm.

"By the way, I believe you dropped this," fishing in his pocket, Butch drew out a tiny green earring, twinkling innocently. With a startled gasp, Buttercup's hand flew to her ears, and she felt in horror what she had not noticed before; that one of her precious emerald earrings was missing. Staring at Butch's smug, handsome face, she felt her rage, so recently evaporated, return again in full force.

"You stole that!" Fast as a striking snake, she snatched the earring from his open palm and fixed it securely again in her ear.

"You're welcome," replied Butch sourly.

"How could it just fall out of my ear?" she hissed, still too surprised to be grateful. With a sigh, Butch buried his hands deeper in his pockets and shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine. You're just lucky I have a good eye for green," he smiled, and Buttercup's mouth went suddenly dry.

"Well…thank you."

"You're welcome." He leaned towards her, excruciatingly slowly, and Buttercup felt herself glue to the spot, entranced by his eyes, unable to step away. "So, what's my reward?"

"R-Reward?" her throat was so dry, it was like sandpaper. Silently, she cursed Butch.

"Yeah," he was too close now; she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, and it made her skin tingle. "My reward. You know, for returning your property."

"Oh," her brain could not string a thought together, and it made her intolerably mad. How dare her body react like this? A part of her was yelling for her to step back and slap him, hard, across the face, like she would any other guy who tried this. But this wasn't just any guy, this was Butch, and for some reason she could not move. He had her, and he knew it.

"Mmm…so can I tell you what I want?"

"Wha-?"

"For my reward…" his lips brushed the soft skin on her neck, and she sighed inadvertently, despising her weakness. If Bubbles and Blossom could see her now.

"I want…" the pressure of his lips intensified, and he ran a single finger leisurely down her cheek. Something fluttered deep inside her.

"Butch…"

"I want…" his lips were on her chin, warm and soft. "I want..."

"Buttercup!"

Instantly, their world shattered. Buttercup jumped backwards, jerked into the present, her face flushed and her body shaking. Butch stayed where he was for a moment, eyes shut, breathing deeply, then straightened. They both stared in the direction of the voice; a figure was running hurriedly towards them, backpack swinging like a wild thing. Billy Carter.

"Thought you said he was at football practice," the expression on Butch's face was poisonous.

"I guess…he finished early."

"Buttercup!" Billy picked up his pace.

"Guess that's my cue then," said Butch sarcastically, and before she could say anything, he was gone.

Leaving her alone to deal with Billy Carter.

"Hey," he panted breathlessly when he reached her, resting an arm on her shoulder as he struggled to get his breath back. "Was that…Butch Rowdyruff?"

"Yep," she shrugged dismissively, and looked at the clock, feigning surprise. "Oh man, I have to go. I promised the Professor I'd be home early tonight. And I think it might rain soon."

"Oh," Billy looked upset, and for a moment Buttercup almost felt sorry for him. But then he began his interrogation, and her sympathy vanished.

"So what did _he_ want?"

"Nothing. Just to return an earring."

"What earring?"

"I lost it at the beach."

"When were you at the beach?"

"I don't know."

"With Butch?"

"No!" Losing patience, she turned on Billy angrily. "He was just walking by, and recognised it. Okay?"

"Oh," he looked put out. "Well, I'm sorry you have to go. I'll walk you home," seized by inspiration and clearly wanting to change the subject, he took her by the arm and began to lead her down the street. Buttercup bit her tongue in irritation.

"Really, it's fine," she insisted, trying to prise her arm from his, but to no avail. Now that he had something to do, Billy seemed in better spirits. Thinking back, Buttercup honestly couldn't remember why she had ever agreed to go on a date with this guy. "I'll be fine."

"I don't want you walking home alone with that creep Butch wandering around," Billy announced, tightening his grip on her. "He's not safe you know."

Buttercup rolled her eyes and allowed herself to be steered home. She had to get rid of this guy, and fast.


	6. Chapter 6

It was another ordinary afternoon

It was another ordinary afternoon. Blossom snuggled against a pillow on the couch of her long term boyfriend, Carl Jenkins, watching as he poured over an assignment for university. Something was playing on the television, but she paid it little attention. Television had never interested her; the Professor was right when he said it killed their brain cells, but his logic fell on deaf ears when it came to her sisters. She, however, knew better.

Bored, she shifted so she could better see his paper. It was a difficult question; Carl's brow was furrowed in concentration, and pages of scrawled notes lay on his lap, sequences of numbers and symbols which Blossom found vaguely familiar. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly. "I recognise that," she motioned to a symbol that looked like a triangle dissected by a thin, curving line. "I've seen the Professor use it before."

"Mmm…" Carl mumbled distractedly.

Letting her mind wander, Blossom thought back to what Brick had said to her in Chemistry. _Don't try to convert me with your mumbo jumbo. _It was hardly mumbo jumbo, she thought, slightly offended. All it took was intelligence, which she knew Brick possessed, albeit buried deeply, and concentration, which she wasn't so sure about.

"Science is worth it, isn't it?" she asked suddenly, surprised at herself for her moment of doubt. She looked expectantly at her boyfriend, but he didn't raise his head.

"Yeah, um, yeah," he responded absently. "Whatever."

"You know I have a new lab partner?" she said again, twirling a long strand of bright red hair between her fingers.

"Mmm…" his answers were beginning to annoy her.

"Yeah, Brick. You know, my evil male counterpart, created by Mojo Jojo to destroy me." She waited for a reaction, but he just sighed and continued writing.

"Look, Blossom, I really need to do this okay. I don't have time to chat right now."

"Oh, right, of course," she blushed slightly, and stood up. "Well I'll just be going then. I didn't mean to be distracting; I know how much work you must have at the moment."

"Ok bye Bloss. See you after school tomorrow," he looked up briefly and motioned for her to come closer. Leaning up, he stretched and kissed her on the tip of her nose, then pushed her towards the door. Clearly dismissed, she let herself out of his apartment.

The streets were relatively deserted, it being late in the afternoon and excessively humid. Blossom walked quickly; it was a long way home, and she didn't want to walk in the dark. The wind whipped her long hair into her face, and in the distance thunder growled menacingly. Worried, Blossom glanced up at the sky, which was brewing with threatening storm clouds, and felt the first drop of rain land gently on her nose.

"Oh no!" she whispered to herself, not wanting to get caught in a thunderstorm. She looked back to Carl's apartment, now several streets behind her, and considered going back and staying there to wait the storm out. But he was studying, and she didn't want to be a nuisance. Determined, Blossom trudged onwards, wrapping her jacket more tightly around herself.

She had almost reached the half way stage of her long hike when it began to rain steadily, the water icy cold despite the heat. She thought about buying an umbrella, but it was getting later and many of the shops were shutting. Besides, she had no idea where she would find a store selling umbrellas in the usually sunny Townsville. It would take some hunting, and she didn't have the time. If it got any worse, she reasoned with herself, she would go via the backstreets and fly; in the gloom and the rain it would be hard for passers-by to see the pink glow she left behind while using her superpowers.

Within a few minutes, it had gotten much worse; thunder rolled above her, and flashes of lightening illuminated the darkening sky. The rain intensified, pattering relentlessly against her skin and chilling her to the bone. Her clothes were soon drenched, her shoes sloshing with moisture collected from the pools of accumulating water on the footpath. At one point, a car sped past and sprayed her with water, saturating her completely.

"Curse it," giving up, she cowered under the veranda of a shop she was passing, shivering violently. She should have gone back to Carls. Should have taken her car so she could drive herself home. Should have rung and got the Professor to collect her. Should have brought an umbrella. But she hadn't, and now she was stuck, alone and freezing, in the middle of the city. Unless she wanted to risk using her powers, and being awkwardly exposed; even then, she would probably still catch cold flying home. There was really no option except to wait the storm out, and pray it broke soon.

Lost in thought, it took Blossom several moments to realise that a car had pulled up along side her on the curb. Her heart sank further. Could this day get any more frustrating? Not only was she wet and stranded, but she was being pestered by strangers as well. Pretending not to notice, she stared away into the distance, her jaw tight. But the window of the car rolled smoothly downwards, and it was clear she would have to confront whoever it was.

"What do you want!" she snapped over the thunder, focusing on the person in the car for the first time. Her mouth dropped open, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Brick, his red cap and hair achingly familiar in this grey, drab street, peered out at her from the driving seat. Upon closer inspection, Blossom realised he was shaking with laughter.

"Got a little wet, Princess?"

"No!" she retorted stupidly, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. She wondered if he was just going to sit there and taunt her, or whether he would offer a lift. Well, she didn't want one anyway.

"What are you doing out in the streets in this weather? Alone." Brick stuck his head partly out of the window and glanced up and down the street, then back at Blossom, who pressed her lips together obstinately. "Hurry up and get in then."

"What?"

Brick sighed. "Don't you want a lift?"

"Not from you," she replied angrily, her pride warring with common sense. "I'm perfectly capable of-"

"Just get in the fucking car, will you?" he shouted. When she still didn't move, he shrugged. "Fine. Bye." The car began to drive away.

Filled with a sudden panic, Blossom cried out and threw herself towards the road, abandoning her dignity. "Wait!" To her relief, Brick stopped, and she clambered awkwardly in, soaked again from her brief dash through the rain to the car.

"Thanks," she muttered, as Brick pulled off from the curb and cruised smoothly down the street, as if there were no rain obstructing his vision. He didn't bother to return her appreciation.

There was something odd about the car, but it took Blossom several minutes to figure it out. When she did, she couldn't suppress a giggle; the seats were colour coded, matching to the three Rowdyruff Boys. The driving seat was a dark, rich red, the passenger's was emerald green, and the entire back seat was light blue. Blossom had never seen anything quite like it.

"Is that the permanent seating order?" she ventured, having to raise her voice over the rain. Brick nodded.

"Generally," he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Sibling rivalry. Don't have the same problem?

"Buttercup refuses to ride in our car," she explained, thinking of her wilful sister with a smile.

"Butch took a lot of convincing," the car sped along the freeway at near double the speed which Blossom thought appropriate. She gripped the edge of her seat nervously.

"Uh…you have to turn here," she squeaked, motioning to the upcoming side-street. Grinning wickedly, Brick sped up.

"I know."

"What are you doing?" she cried, losing the precarious hold she had on her fear. "You're going to crash!"

Brick laughed casually. "Relax princess." Expertly, he spun the car just in time and pulled it into the street, straightening it with a violent tug of the wheel and sliding only marginally on the slippery bitumen. The tyres made a loud screeching noise, and the car filled with the smell of burning rubber.

"You're mad," she whispered breathlessly, her heart pounding so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. Now that the initial prospect of an immediate death had faded, Blossom felt anger swell in her chest, hot and uncomfortable. How dare this idiot put her life in danger with his immature antics? She opened her mouth to scold him, but hesitated when she recognised another emotion within her, underneath the anger and the still drumming heart. In some ways, she realised sickeningly, she had actually _enjoyed _Brick's ridiculous driving stunt. It was perhaps the most exciting thing that had happened to her in quite some time, unless you counted chasing robbers and rescuing people from burning buildings, which Blossom didn't. It had been exciting and, as much as she hated to admit it, enjoyable.

"You look like you're about to vomit," Brick told her, his voice softer than normal. "It wasn't that bad. You mean to say you can fly through the air at superhuman speeds but you can't take a sharp turn in a car?" He shook his head.

Too winded to reply, Blossom closed her eyes and allowed herself to be steered home. It was further than she thought, and the rain did not let up in its relentless onslaught. Thunder rolled like great war drums over the sky, accompanied frequently by violent flashes of lightening; Blossom felt resentful gratitude swell inside of her, as she dried out under Brick's heater.

They drove in silence. Blossom glanced surreptitiously at Brick out of the corner of her eye. He had changed more than she had given him credit for, she realised, since his time as a minion of Mojo Jojo. Sure, he was still a bossy idiot, but maybe she had been wrong about him still being _evil. _After all, he had picked her up and given her a ride, and he hadn't been particularly vindictive about it either. He could have driven straight past her, or stopped to taunt her in the rain. But instead he had allowed her to drip all over his seat, while he went out of his way to deliver her safely home. That had to count for something.

Dimly, Blossom became aware that he was speaking. Looking out the window, she realised they were parked outside her house; through the sheeting rain, it appeared oddly disfigured.

"What was that?"

"I said get the fuck out of my car."

Blossom blinked in surprise, and turned to stare at him. He was looking at her, his eyes dark red in the faded light of the car, his red cap blending into the long ropes of hair that coiled down his back, his mouth set in a scornful smirk. "What? Going to cry princess? Did I hurt your feelings?"

It took a moment for her to process what he was saying, so unexpected was his contempt and derision. Then, in silence, she opened the door of the car and stepped out, hearing Brick say something but not bothering to turn around and listen. As haughtily as she could in the rain, she walked with her back held straight to her front door, without once looking back. It was only when she had locked the front door and heard his tyres screech away up the street that she allowed his words to wash over her and felt the first pangs of anger and, strangely, disappointment.

Because she had been wrong, very wrong; Brick was still a complete asshole.

**A/N: Would love to know what you think at this stage, because there's a surprise coming just around the corner….winks conspiratorially**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Yay!! Year 12 is over! Now I can totally relax, and update this story. I have been totally neglecting it, I know. But exams were stressful, and I wanted to do the best I could. School, fanfiction, boyfriend; it's hard to balance them all y'know. **_**Anyway, **_**enough about my life story. Here is the next chapter, and I will try try try to get another one to you all soon.**

**PS: I am loving the reviews. They are such a good booster to my day. Keep them coming my lovelies. **

The rain had stopped shortly after dinner, but it was still awfully cold outside. Concerned, Bubbles gazed out of the window, trying to measure the temperature with her eyes. It was nearly midnight, and she was waiting impatiently for her father to start snoring in the next room, so she could leave in the safe knowledge that the entire family was asleep and oblivious.

As the seconds ticked by in absolute silence, Bubbles stood up and began to pace restlessly around her room, wrapping her jumper tighter around herself, even though it was warm inside and she could have managed without it. For the twentieth time that night, she crossed to her full length mirror and stared avidly at her reflection, examining every aspect of her appearance, from the shoulder length blonde curls and wide blue eyes to the long, slender legs fitted snugly into a pair of her favourite jeans. Content with what she saw, she deserted the mirror and resumed her pacing.

At long last, the sounds of the Professor's snores began to creep through her walls, and Bubbles sighed in relief. Switching off her light and rearranging her pillows to a convincing disguise, she ran to the window and hoisted herself gracefully through it, hugging herself to the slippery wall as easily as if it were the jungle gym at school. Heart pounding in anticipation, she jumped lightly to the ground, landing with barely a tremor, and took off at a fast pace towards the small park opposite their house.

Slouched against the swing was a boy, his feet dragging in the bark chips, and his head drooped against his chest, messy blonde hair like a beacon in the darkness. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet and made the distance to her in record time, enveloping her in his arms as if she were a precious china doll. One hand reached up to tangle in her hair, and the other wrapped itself protectively around her waist. For a moment they stood utterly still, staring into each other's eyes, before their lips met in a searing kiss.

"Bubbles," he whispered haggardly when they pulled apart, tightening his grip around her. "I missed you."

"Me too," she kissed him again, slowly this time, her fingers tracing circles on the back of his neck. "I miss you all the time Boomer."

Exhaling slowly, Bubbles' counterpart collected her into his arms and moved them to the bench, his movements tender and delicate. When they were seated, he drew back just far enough to rummage in his pocket.

"I got you something," hesitantly, he drew out a small box from his coat and presented it to her, grinning indulgently as he watched her eyes widen in surprise.

"Boomer! You shouldn't have!" she squealed in delight. With bated breath, she prised the lid open, her mouth dropping open. Inside, on a fragile silver chain, hung a large, twinkling blue gem, identical to the colour of Bubbles' eyes. It sparkled almost magically in the darkness, its silver outline helping to highlight the magnificent colour.

"Is that a…"

"Sapphire, yes. It matches your earrings, and your eyes." Boomer bit his lip apprehensively. "Do you like it?"

With a small smile, Bubbles looked up at him. "I love it," she told him quietly. "And I love _you._" She tilted her head in expectation, and Boomer leant towards her for a sweet, unhurried kiss that soon deepened into something harder and more demanding. Bubbles pressed her body against her boyfriend's, her hands slipping under his shirt and running over his chest. Boomer's own hands curled gently around the swell of Bubbles' breasts, but remained strictly above clothing, as if anything more would spell his instant demise. Several times he strayed inadvertently to the buttons of her shirt, before clenching his fist and forcing his hand away. Bubbles, wrapped in the kiss, didn't notice.

A loud clatter broke them prematurely apart, and they peered wildly into the darkness; but it was only a stray cat, rummaging amongst the neighbour's bins. Chuckling softly to themselves, they leant their heads together and took a few deep, calming breaths of the night air. Boomer's chest rose and fell unevenly and his hands, where they rested on Bubbles' waist, were trembling. For a long while, he simply watched her face; she blushed prettily under his blue eyed gaze, looking at him through her thick lashes.

The moon broke through the clouds, which were beginning to clear now that the storm had passed, and bathed them both in a pale light. With a resigned sigh, Boomer shifted so that Bubbles slid off of his lap and onto the bench; knowing what was coming, she tensed in distress.

"You have to go," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "It's late, and you have to rest."

"I don't need any rest," she argued, repeating the same point she made every week, knowing at the same time that it was useless; that, just as he did every other time they met, Boomer would stick stubbornly to his insistence of her needing sleep, and force her to leave. "We've only had half an hour," she pleaded, tears filling her clear blue eyes. "Boomer, I don't want to leave."

"I don't want to leave either," he buried his head in her hair and breathed deeply, memorising her scent until their next meeting. "But we have to. If you're exhausted in the morning, they'll be suspicious. Imagine if they found out about us…"

"I don't care!" pouted Bubbles recklessly, folding her arms. "I'd rather they _did _know about us, than all this sneaking around." Her face crumpled, and she clung to him. "I hate having to ignore you at school. It's not fair. It's not fair," she began to cry. Boomer, his face stricken, rocked her in his arms while she wept, waiting until her sobs had subsided to speak again.

"I hate it too Bubbles, but I know how much you love your father and your sisters, and I'd hate even more to come between that and make you unhappy-"

"They'd understand-"

"Maybe," he cut her off. "Maybe not. Besides, they're family, more…more important than boyfriends. If…" he swallowed, suddenly lost for words. "If, in a year, you don't still feel the same way about me-"

"I'll always feel the same way about you," interrupted Bubbles fiercely. "Always."

Boomer kissed her on the temple, then stood up while he still maintained a firm self-control. Reluctantly, Bubbles followed him, holding out the necklace for him to fasten around her neck, which he did deftly despite the dark. "It looks beautiful," he told her, holding her to him briefly then releasing her with a look of despair. "You look beautiful."

"Thursday night?" she asked hopefully. He nodded, unable to speak, and took off at a run away from her. When he got to the corner of the park he stopped and looked back for an instant, before spinning on his heel and taking off into the night. Bubbles knew he would run, now, for hours, before finally returning to the house he shared with his brothers and collapsing in bed. Why he did it, she wasn't sure. He told her it was because while she was still fresh in his head he couldn't sleep, and he needed the exercise to distract himself. She didn't know whether to believe him or not.

Touching the necklace he had given her to her chest, Bubbles made her way slowly back to the house, and back into her room. Safe again in bed, her eyes squeezed tight to stop her tears from falling, she too found that she couldn't sleep. The memory of Boomer was too real for her body to relax; her mind ran continuously over their conversation, their kisses, the small, intimate touches and glances they shared, the way he looked at her as if she were the only girl in the world. Tomorrow, at school, it would be as if they were enemies, as distant as Buttercup and Butch, or Blossom and Brick. But for tonight, and forever in Bubbles own mind, they were together. And nothing could take that away from her.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So….I don't know if anyone is even reading this story anymore. I sort of gave up on it myself, but then I decided that I should give it one more shot. I'm not promising anything, but if I get enough people interested, I might put in the effort to get in finished. So, yeah…**

Buttercup was having one of the worst days of her life. She had woken with a headache, stiff, sore and out of sorts. The Professor had grumbled all through breakfast about his most recent experiment, which clearly wasn't progressing as he had hoped, and her sisters had both been in foul moods; Bubbles quiet and sullen, Blossom snappish and bossy. Buttercup was close to tearing her hair out by the time she had finished her cereal, and the day hadn't even begun.

To cap it off, the weather was still miserable, and the storm showed no sign of breaking soon. Rain lashed against the windows of the Utonium home, a reflection of the entire household's mood. Cursing winter and rain in general, Buttercup opened the front door and looked gingerly at the sky; the bruised and swollen underbellies of heavy rain clouds glared back at her, stretching into every corner of her vision. No way was she going to walk to school under that sky; not after deciding that she quite liked the tousled effect that sleep had had on her hair. Swallowing her pride, she spun on the doorstep and went to ask her ill-tempered sisters for a lift.

Now, at school, the situation had steadily worsened. Buttercup had spent the past several days trying her hardest to avoid both Billy Carter and Butch, with relative success. But today, it had become increasingly clear to her, she would have to confront at least one of them if she were to avoid finding herself cornered in the corridor. She narrowly escaped Billy's clutches before class, by ducking in with a large group of her twittering classmates and hurrying to her first lesson, arriving so early that the teacher asked her if she was feeling well. Butch was more elusive, but she felt his eyes on her in English, the one class they shared together, and she could have sworn he was behind her as she walked along the corridor between lessons; when she spun around, however, he was nowhere to be seen.

"This sucks," she announced dramatically to her sisters at lunch, seating herself on the opposite side of the lunch table and scanning the room suspiciously. Thankfully, she could see nobody who posed an immediate threat.

When she failed to receive a reply, Buttercup glanced impatiently back at her siblings, only to find them both staring glumly at their plates, mouths down turned and large eyes pensive. She growled in frustration. "What's wrong with you two? You've barely said a word all day."

"Sorry," squeaked Bubbles, looking close to tears. Her eyes darted to the side, but when Buttercup followed her gaze, she found nothing of particular interest. Only Brick and Boomer sitting together, heads bent forwards in deep conversation, food left untouched between them. Maybe one of them had said something mean to her sister, and that was why she was upset. Buttercup sighed in aggravation, opening her mouth to admonish Bubbles for listening to anything those drongos had to say. But before she could speak, the third Rowdyruff boy entered the cafeteria, caught her eye and made a beeline directly for her.

As if somebody had flicked a switch, Blossom came suddenly to life. "That boy's coming towards us, and he's looking at you," she hissed angrily, as if it was a personal insult to her to have been recognised by one of _them. _"Butch," she spat out his name like poison. "What does he want?"

Not bothering to reply, Buttercup turned her head as if she didn't notice his approach, and bit stubbornly into her sandwich. She would simply refuse to speak to him. He could hardly stand there like a buffoon for very long, and he wouldn't want to make a scene, she knew. He would have no other choice but to turn and walk back the way he had come. It gave her a strange satisfaction to think of the embarrassment she was about to inflict upon her nemesis.

But when Butch finally came to stand in front of her, in all his casual elegance, black hair handsomely windswept from being outside, eyes dark and intense as they bore into her skin, lips red and hard against his skin, Buttercup discovered in horror that all her scornful words failed her.

"Bubbles, Blossom," Butch nodded his head in regal formality, acting the part of a derisive sixteenth century count conducting his business with a merchant's family. His smug confidence riled Buttercup, but her tongue had glued itself to the roof of her mouth, and she could only glare helplessly at him.

"Buttercup."

Tension snapped in the air. Her sisters frowned in confusion, their eyes flicking between her and Butch, watching the exchange with interest and suspicion. Buttercup was aware that she was making a spectacle, sitting on her seat breathing like an oxen, her chest heaving, her cheeks bright with anger, her hands clenched into fists on the table, while Butch leered supremely over her, almost lapping up her rage. Why did he have to look so devastatingly good looking when she wanted so badly to disdain him? Nearby, a pair of girls sidled closer, laughing loudly and tossing their hair, hoping to catch his eye. Buttercup felt her blood boil.

"I need to talk to you," stubbornly, Butch ignored the attention being channelled his way, and leant with one arm against the table, so that his face was closer to hers. She had just time to study the hard outline of his jaw, the careless mess of hair, the startlingly green eyes, before he was turning his mouth into a sneer and speaking again. "Now."

Blossom's mouth dropped open in indignation for her sister, and her eyes sparkled. Buttercup wished she could conjure as much offence, but Butch was too close, and her lungs were contracting painfully. With a pompous smile-he knew he had won-he leaned backwards and stretched out his hand, beckoning her. Like a trapped animal, Buttercup searched the room frantically for something, anything, to rescue her, and fell upon the last thing in the world she wanted to see. Billy Carter.

There was no choice. It was either that or find herself alone with Butch. Opening her mouth, she found within her the will to mould her expression into sweet innocence. Butch grinned back, sensing defeat, but she spoke entirely different words to what he was expecting.

"Billy!" her voice rang, loud and clear, across the cafeteria. She watched as Billy turned, his head jerking towards her, eyes honing in and assessing the situation; her cowering form, Butch's threatening, menacing pose, her sisters' affronted resentment. Abandoning his conversation, he bolted across the room.

Anger and hurt flashed across Butch's face, and he snatched his hand away as if she had burned him. Then, in an instant, the emotion drained from him, and his face was once again a hard, expressionless wall. Without a word, he offered her one last contemptuous look, then spun on his heel and stalked out of the cafeteria. Vaguely, Buttercup wondered where he was going.

There was no time for the questions she could see her sisters longed to fire at her. Billy skidded to a halt next to her, and set his hand upon her shoulder, in what he obviously intended to be a protective gesture. "What did _he _want?" he asked, and Buttercup felt sure he would have spat on the ground had it been acceptable. "Is he bothering you again?"

"Again?" Blossom didn't miss a trick.

"It doesn't matter," hastened Buttercup, taking another vicious bite of food to avoid further elaboration. "S'alright Billy," she said with her mouth full. "I'll catch up with you later. I've forgotten what I wanted to say."

"Well…I actually wanted to talk to you anyway," Billy shifted uncomfortably, and his eyes darted uneasily to Blossom and Bubbles. "Can you come outside for a minute?"

"I'm eating." Inwardly, Buttercup groaned. This was exactly what she had been seeking to evade; it was all Butch's fault. If he hadn't insisted on being such a twat and confronting her like that in front of everybody, she would never have been forced into this equally irritating situation. Yes, she decided, it was all his fault. "Can't I talk to you later?" _Or never. _

The same girls who had moments before hovered near Butch trying to catch his attention now returned and fought valiantly to gain Billy's interest. He was more lenient; for several seconds he turned and indulged on them a charming smile, tilting his head in the way of people who knew they were handsome and admired. Buttercup wanted to throw up her lunch on his shoes.

"Anyway," he said, turning back to her, still grinning like an idiot. "Come and talk."

Without warning, Bubbles stood up violently, her cheeks red with rage and her chest heaving. Her blonde curls had come loose from their ponytail and bounced indignantly around her face, and her blue eyes shone with tears. She whimpered slightly as she pushed back her chair, then spun on her heel and darted in the same direction that Butch had stalked only moments before.

Dumbstruck, Buttercup turned to Blossom, whose eyebrows had almost disappeared into her hairline. It was such an uncharacteristic Bubbles reaction, and entirely unprovoked. She had been sulky all day, true, but never before had her bad mood reached such violent extremes. That was something that Buttercup herself was prone to doing-storming out in anger-not Bubbles. Sweet, innocent little Bubbles, who now appeared close to killing something, or someone.

Maybe what those idiot Rowdyruff boys had said to her had been more insulting than she had first thought. Curious, she cast a nonchalant glance towards their table, half hoping to see Butch again, but there was only Brick there now, staring angrily at his food and smoking. None of the teachers had yet gathered the courage to walk up and reprimand him. Boomer and Butch had obviously had more sense, and slunk off together.

"B?" Billy was looking at her impatiently now. When he had caught her attention, he nodded his head outside where, Buttercup noted with optimism, the rain had begun to ease. "Can we talk?"

Glancing apologetically at Blossom, Buttercup stood up and brushed some stray crumbs from her uniform collar. Her thoughts lingered on Bubbles, and her unexpected outburst, but before she could share anything further with her one remaining sister, Billy was ushering her past rows of tables and chairs and out the big double doors into the courtyard, where the rain had left a hazy, chilled mist that made her feel light-headed and fresh.

"So," she asked wearily of her companion. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

Instead of answering, Billy seized her roughly by the shoulders and kissed her, his mouth hard and demanding. Buttercup resisted the urge to push him back with her superhuman strength and send him flying into the opposite wall. For the sake of convenience, she opened her mouth slightly and allowed the kiss to continue, until his hands began to roam, creeping down to her breasts. She pushed him roughly away, keeping a tight grip on her anger.

"That's not talking."

"Sorry. I-I couldn't help myself," he was breathing heavily, and the desire she could read in his eyes filled her with misgivings. It wasn't right to lead this boy on, she realised with sudden clarity. But how to put her feelings gently without causing herself all sorts of new problems?

"That's okay. But Billy-"

"Where were you this morning? I looked for you outside school, but you weren't there. Then…in the corridor you just, just vanished," he looked vaguely hurt, and she focused for the moment on consoling him.

"I caught a lift, because it was raining," she explained. "And I had to get to class early…to-to speak to the teacher." This was a blatant untruth, but there was nothing she could do. It was much easier this way.

"Oh. It almost feels like you're avoiding me," Billy laughed and shook his head, as if such a possibility was beyond comprehension. "I guess I'm just not used to it, that's all. Most of my girlfriends hang off my elbow, but you're different," he glanced at her appraisingly. "You're independent."

"Indeed," remarked Buttercup wryly, astoundingly uninterested in the habits of Billy's previous girlfriends. "Maybe we're not right for each other," she asked hopefully.

"No!" Billy seized her hand. "No I didn't mean it like that. You're a challenge," he kissed each of her fingertips in turn, then grinned. "I like challenges."

The courtyard in which they were standing was siphoned off from the outside by high, vine trellised walls. Tables and chairs were placed at odd angles, strangely balanced due to the pavement that had in many places raised slightly with the pressure of weeds or the scuffing of a well aimed boot. Green shade cloth stretched from corner to corner as a roof, allowing the mist from the storm to lower and curl itself around Buttercup's ankles, while at the same time preventing the heavier rain from reaching them. A tree stood in the centre of the courtyard, its roots also cracking the worn pavement. Long boughs spread like protective arms through the air, casting shadows along the ground and filling the small area with the scent of damp wood. It was almost, in an odd way, romantic, if you ignored the teacher standing guard at the doorway to keep an eye on everybody, but who was snoozing with his head against the wall, an empty coffee cup held listlessly in his hand.

"It's romantic, isn't it?" said Billy, his eyes following hers as they scanned from corner to corner. The shadows of the farthest corner intrigued her; it was almost a green blackness. It reminded her of Butch. She blinked and refocused her eyes on Billy.

"I guess so."

"So can we do something again this Saturday?" Billy released her hand and blinked at her, clearly not anticipating rejection. "Movies? Dinner? Or we could just-" he trailed off suggestively.

It was some time before Buttercup answered. She delayed, pretending to consider, in the hope that the lunch bell would ring, or some other interruption could intervene and allow her to evade an immediate answer. But nothing came, and at last she could delay no longer. She began to perspire, despite the chilly weather and the mist enveloping her.

"Sure."

Billy grinned, and for a moment Buttercup could see why she had been attracted to him, and why most other girls fawned all over him as if he were some sort of God. But she no longer found his boyish, brown face handsome, realising deep within her that she preferred paler skin, redder lips, darker features, a more mysterious countenance. When this change had occurred, she didn't know. But now, staring at Billy and kicking herself for accepting another date, she felt unequivocally displeased.

The shrill sound of the high school bell rang through the hall, echoing slightly over the patter of the rain. The sleeping teacher, who Buttercup recognized as Mr Williams, a maths teacher, gave a loud grunt and awoke with a start, glaring at the pair of students before him as if it were their fault that he had fallen asleep on duty. Ignoring his disapproval, Buttercup darted around Billy, allowing him a quick peck on the cheek, and back into the cafeteria, relief sweeping through her that she had survived that encounter relatively effortlessly. Because the next encounter, she knew, would not be so easy.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Who knew, that stories could come back from the dead?

Uh, in case you've completely forgotten (I wouldn't blame you) what this story's about, there had just been that little incident in the cafeteria between Buttercup, Butch and Billy, and Bubbles had jumped up and stormed off for no apparent reason. Which is where the story kicks off again…

.

The corridors were, on the main part, deserted. Bubbles walked quickly in the direction of the music rooms, which she knew with almost absolute certainty would be uninhabited. The surprised stares of her sisters when she had jumped up and left the cafeteria moments before stayed with her, worming into her brain and making her feel as if she was being watched. Several times she stopped and spun quickly around, but there was never anybody there.

A group of boys stood loitering at the corner of the English corridor. Bubbles said a quiet thanks that they were far enough away from the music area so as to avoid suspicion when she didn't return immediately. The last thing she needed was to be followed. As she passed, she cast them a shy glance, and saw the spark of interest in their eyes; but she walked quickly and did not return their rather bashful greeting. Her mind was much too focused on a particular boy, who stood waiting patiently for her at the end of this brief journey.

By the time she rounded the last corner, and found herself in front of a door reading 'Piano Room' in bored, fading letters, Bubbles' heart was clambering and anxious thoughts had begun to infiltrate her usually serene defences. What if she had misread the signs; that he had simply left the cafeteria for business of his own? What if all the excitement she had felt building inside her as she hurried towards this door had been misguided? What if, inside, there was nothing but a dusty piano and a misshapen wooden stool?

Taking a deep breath and dismissing her fears, Bubbles turned the handle and let herself into the room, shutting the door carefully behind her. For a moment she stood paralysed, eyes downcast and unable to look up, before she was engulfed by strong arms and felt his familiar scent wash over her. Something that had been missing in her for several days found its way back into position, and she smiled in giddy happiness at being whole again. Instantly the days apart faded to insignificance, as well as the uncertainty of the days ahead. Nothing mattered except that she was his, and he was hers, and they were here, together, once more.

"I didn't know if you would come," whispered Boomer haggardly, smoothing a few stray curls away from her forehead and kissing her. The way his lips pressed so urgently against hers ignited a powerful longing in Bubbles, and she clung fiercely to him. Her body, stretched taught in order to reach Boomer's mouth, moulded itself into his arms as comfortably as if they were two parts of the same whole being reunited. "I wasn't sure-"

"Shhh," she captured his mouth desperately, surprised even at herself. Boomer obliged her command willingly, his hands sliding from her neck, down the curves of her body, and around her small waist. Desire to touch more of her drove him almost to breaking point; her sweet body enticed him in more ways than he had once imagined possible, and he had difficulty in controlling himself enough to kiss her. It occurred to him that he could no longer envisage a life without this.

While they kissed, Bubbles had loosened his tie and undone the front of his white, ironed school shirt, running her hands up along his collar bone and around his neck. For the first time Boomer toyed with the possibility of unbuttoning _her_ shirt; the idea both thrilled and terrified him. He didn't understand how she could be so confident. The knowledge that he was a few buttons away from her bare skin and breasts nearly blinded him.

Being careful not to think too much, Boomer slid the first of her buttons out of its pocket, then the next. Inch by inch, her clothing parted, revealing Bubbles flat, pale stomach, which he touched with nervous fingers. Bubbles responded by moaning slightly and pressing her hips against him. He felt himself harden and knew that Bubbles could feel it, but she didn't cringe away. Instead, she kissed him back with a passion and longing that he felt mirrored in himself.

The last button fell away, and Boomer broke the kiss for an instant in surprise at his bravery. Bubbles looked up at him, blinking in all her magnificent, blonde glory. Her breasts, perky and round, were covered by a small blue bra, and he drank in the sight of them greedily, before bending over and kissing them with ginger affection.

Barely a minute had passed, and neither of them had moved, when the lunch bell rang dim and distant from the cafeteria. Boomer froze, grinding his teeth together in frustration. How long could his body withstand this torture, of snatched ten minutes here and there, before it gave in on him and he did something stupid? But then, maybe the interruption was a good thing, for if they had been left alone much longer he quite possibly could have done something stupid anyway.

Tears pooled in Bubble's wide eyes, and she clung to him. It gave Boomer immense satisfaction to soothe her, as well as distracting him from his own anguish, which throbbed achingly in his gut.

"We have to go," he said at last, detaching himself with an effort and watching as she rebuttoned her blouse. With a superhuman effort, he breathed deeply and got his body back under his control. "You turn left, I'll go right. Quick, before anybody comes."

Angry eyes rose to glare at him. "You don't want to be seen with me." The sting in her words surprised him. After all, it was she as much as he who had made the hard decision to keep their relationship a secret. He was only being practical.

"It's not that, it's just-"

"You know Butch came over to see my sister today," Bubbles' bottom lip protruded slightly in a pout. "At lunch. In front of everybody."

"I know, I saw," Boomer replied hesitantly, conscious of the noise echoing from outside. "I don't know what that was about, Butch wouldn't say. But-"

"And we can't even be seen together." The voices were growing louder. Bubbles scrubbed at her cheeks and turned towards the door. A gulf seemed to open up between them, and Boomer opened his mouth wordlessly, wanting to say something that would make her smile, but unable to find the words. Instead he stood in silence as she swept herself out the door, turning to the left just as he had asked. The emptiness he was left with seemed to eat away at him, and he clenched his fists in frustration. He wasn't sure he could wait until Thursday to see her again, to touch her, to speak to her. But what was the alternative? To admit to his brothers that he was madly in love with their sworn enemy? That he could think of no future besides one with her, a girl who had, along with her sisters, murdered all three of them.

It was impossible. Everything was impossible. Aware that he had only moments before he was caught alone in the music room, with no apparent reason to be there, Boomer quickly slid himself through the door, carefully avoiding the stares of the few students in the corridor and darting away to his right. Something would have to change. And soon.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys. I appreciate each and every one of them.

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It was with tentative apprehension that Blossom took her seat in chemistry, the last lesson of the day. Her eyes skimmed across her classmates surreptitiously, and she smiled with relief once she had ascertained that Brick was not there. That was one less confrontation to deal with on this most peculiar of days. She had been unnaturally agitated ever since her encounter with Brick in the rain the previous week. Her sisters got on her nerves, the Professor seemed a nagging parent, her school friends were almost intolerable, and even Carl was hard to take at times, though she wasn't quite sure why. Now, settling into her favourite subject and knowing that after this she could go home and curl up in bed with a good book, she felt more content than she had in days. With a weary sigh, she closed her eyes.

Seconds past, before the atmosphere suddenly tensed and she knew instantly that something had happened. Dreading what she would see, Blossom prised her eyes open, aware of a new presence next to her that had not been there a minute ago.

"What are you doing here?" she asked exasperatedly, in her annoyance not bothering to keep her tone polite. His closing words to her at their last encounter still festered in her gut, and she felt determined to be unpleasant.

"I take this class, remember princess?" Brick's tone was wry and, Blossom noted with surprise, slightly weary. For an instant she melted slightly.

"Why _do_ you take this class? Surely you can't be interested in this _mumbo jumbo_?" For the first time since he had entered the classroom, she chanced a glance at him. He was wearing his trademark cap, a slightly bigger and much more rugged version of the one Blossom remembered from her early childhood. His hair seemed darker, the thin twists of hair spraying out of his cap like a fountain and poking down his back. His face was twisted in a scowl, and with a small penknife he was scratching some kind of symbol into the wooden desk. Realising she was staring, Blossom bit her lip and turned back to her side of the table. Brick did not ordain to reply.

The lesson was theory; the Professor stood at the front of his class, chalk in hand, and dictated notes to the class, occasionally indicating on the blackboard a sequence, or diagram, that would further the students' understanding of what they were learning. For many these lessons served as an excuse to daydream and doodle on their pages. But Blossom took them seriously, listening attentively so as not to miss a single word, even though she knew most of it already. Occasionally she would shoot an admonishing look at her fellow classmates for their laziness, but on the whole she stared straight ahead, writing furiously and trying to anticipate what the Professor was going to say next. It was her form of extension.

Now, however, she had encountered a problem with her usual routine: Brick. As unresponsive as he was, his very presence distracted her. Uncharacteristically, she couldn't concentrate at all on what she was supposed to be writing, and found herself several notes behind at more than one stage in the lesson.

Eventually, after her third attempt at spelling a world she would never have gotten wrong under normal circumstances, Blossom sighed and turned to her sullen companion. He had moved on from his symbol, and had now focused his attention on a large 'B'. This too irritated Blossom. What if somebody mistook it for meaning Blossom, and blamed the vandalism on her? Deciding that was quite a valid point, she voiced her opinion aloud.

"You know the Professor might think that means Blossom?" She waited in smug silence for his answer.

"Why would I be carving your name?"

His question caught her off guard, and she hesitated in responding. He had taken a completely different perspective, and begrudgingly Blossom had to admit he was probably right. Nobody would think her guilty of graffiti. There was nothing to worry about; she could let him carve his name in peace. But for some reason she could not help herself replying.

"That's not what I meant."

With a pained sigh, as if he were dealing with a particularly ignorant child, Brick relaxed his grip on the penknife and twisted to look at her, his dark eyes boring into her. Again he swept his gaze down her body; Blossom squirmed uncomfortably, feeling like a model on display. To her horror her cheeks began to heat. The knowledge that she was blushing only made her redden further; it was a vicious cycle.

"Do you want to know why I take this class princess?" Brick raised his eyebrows at her scornfully. Affronted and busy trying to control her blush, Blossom pursed her lips and did not reply. Taking her silence for a nod, Brick continued, lowering his voice slightly to a whisper. Against her better judgement, Blossom felt herself leaning towards him. "Because I'm about to be kicked out of school."

This news did not really surprise her. After all, Brick rarely attended any of his classes. He smoked blatantly in front of teachers, was rude and disrespectful, and vandalised school property. The only thing that had saved him from expulsion so far was the fact that he was not a particularly bad student. Like Blossom, he had inherited his fair share of brains, and received better results than many who went to all their classes and studied each night. But he never tried, and natural academic ability could only get someone so far. It was no wonder the school had had enough.

"So what? It never seemed like you enjoyed school much anyway. Why not just leave?" This had been troubling Blossom of late. Why was it that all three of the Rowdyruff Boys still remained in high school? Was it merely from a desire to prove that they had turned over a new leaf, that they were no longer the mad destructors they were created to be? If so, why did they put in so little effort?

"I have a deal," Brick shrugged as if to brush the question off, and Blossom decided tactfully not to press the issue. "Besides, I like school," he smiled wryly when he saw her raised eyebrows. "Nah, for real. There's not much else to do."

"What are you going to do when you finish?" she asked, glancing sideways at her classmates to see if they had noticed their hushed conversation. She could not believe her nerve, having a full fledged conversation with a boy, right under the Professor's nose. The thought gave her a huge thrill.

Brick looked surprised by the question. It was the first time she had seen him truly hesitate before he spoke. When he did, it was with an almost bashful manner. "Dunno. Go travelling. I want-I want to go to places."

"That's excellent," she urged, but her tone was too enthusiastic, and Brick's expression closed. "No, really, it is."

"Whatever. The point is, I need to take this class to stay in school. And I need to pass. _Really_ pass," he glanced at her meaningfully, and she blushed again. "And I can't pass this by myself."

The conversation had taken on such a new, strange dimension, that it took several moments before what was being said reached Blossom's thought process. When it did, she blinked several times before answering.

"You want me to teach you Chemistry?"

"Fuck you," Brick scowled angrily. "I don't _want _you to do anything. I don't even need you to. I can manage just by myself. You know what, just fucking forget it."

The anger in his voice stung her, and she went quietly back to her book. But she had fallen far behind in her notes, and could not keep track of the lecture. In fact, she realised with a glance at the clock, it was very nearly the end of the day; time had passed quicker than she thought possible.

For several minutes she was consumed by thoughts of how to broach the topic of tutoring again. Brick's posture was hostile; he was hunched over his 'B' as if it were a precious artefact he had just unearthed after years of searching. Everything about him seemed angrier, and Blossom could feel the power emanating from him; she had not forgotten how strong he and his brothers had been all those years ago. No doubt this strength had only increased since then.

"I'm quite happy…I mean I-I don't mind helping you pass Chemistry," she said timidly, choosing her words with care and keeping her tone as neutral as possible. It occurred to her that she didn't_ actually_ want to help Brick with his Chemistry; she was busy as it was, and he was sure to be a disagreeable, reluctant student. There was nothing in it for her, and yet she found herself hoping he would accept.

There was a moment of tense silence, before Brick finally managed to growl into the table, "Hm, whatever." His posture relaxed slightly, and he raised his head as if in attention to what was being said at the front of the classroom. A faint bubble of optimism was beginning to grow within Blossom, until the bell sounded and Brick jumped out of his seat as if it had electrocuted him, disappearing out the door without a backwards glance.

It had not been a flat refusal, she told herself as she too gathered her books to go home. There was still a long way to go yet, but at least he hadn't said no. That was a start.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Bit of a long one for a change. Enjoy…**

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There was no reason not to walk home. The rain had cleared after lunch, and a watery sun now shone in an almost perfectly blue sky. Clouds which had for the last few days appeared so threatening now drifted lazily into the distance before breaking apart and vanishing altogether. A light mist still hung in the air, refreshing and cooling from the heat of the mid afternoon. Birds returned from their hiding, and sang sweet, inviting post-rain tunes from the branches of the trees. It was a beautiful afternoon.

Despite this, Buttercup hung back in the girl's bathroom, debating whether to ask her sisters for another lift home. She could claim she was tired, her feet hurt, she had a headache, or there was too much homework for her to do that night. There were any number of excuses, and no doubt Blossom and Bubbles would fall for all of them. No, the problem wasn't lying; the problem was that she did sincerely want to walk home.

With deliberate slowness, she wet her hands and teased out the ends of her hair, so that they rested slightly apart from her face. Buttercup liked her hair; it was shaped in a pixie bob around her face, and managed to accentuate her green eyes and red lips without highlighting how pale her skin was. No matter how hard she tried, she could not give herself a tan. Even in the height of summer, her skin refused to brown. It would redden if she stayed out long enough in the sun, then fade and return to its default whiteness. The stubbornness with which it refused to do what she wanted bugged Buttercup; she would even have preferred the freckles that Blossom constantly complained about.

Bored of examining her face, and unable to think of any more reasons to stay in the bathroom, Buttercup left and walked with slow, paced steps towards her locker. Maybe, she thought, if she simply took long enough to meet her sisters, they would leave without her and that would be that. No decisions, no awkward prying questions, no need to think about anything except each step bringing her closer and closer to the sanctuary of her home.

But Blossom and Bubbles were still there, heads huddled together in whispered conversation. They broke apart quickly when they saw Buttercup, and for a moment she was offended. After all, weren't three sisters of identical age supposed to share everything? It was three or nothing, not two and one. Her mind made up to walk, Buttercup held her head high and made to walk past them.

"We wanted to talk to you," said Blossom, grabbing her arm and yanking her back towards them. "Buttercup! Stop walking." She used her trademark bossy tone, and Buttercup felt her hackles rise.

"What?"

"Well…we just-" they looked at each other purposefully. Buttercup glowered at the two of them, thoroughly agitated.

"Look, I'm walking home, and if I don't get going I'll never get there. So whatever it is you want to say you'd better spit it out."

"We just wanted to know what all that was about at lunchtime," continued Blossom obstinately, refusing to be cowed. "You know, with Butch, and all that? Because-because we wouldn't want you to get involved in a relationship that could be damaging. You remember what happened with Ace, don't you?"

Mention of her brief childhood crush, in such a tactless and brash way, sent Buttercup into a frenzy. She snatched her arm away from her sister, threw her books into her locker and stormed down the corridor without a backwards glance. Behind her, Bubbles said something in a timid voice, but not even that was enough to make her turn around. Buttercup continued to rage until she was out of the school and halfway down the street, only stopping then to readjust her shoelace, which had come undone in her haste to leave. As her shaking fingers fumbled to tie the laces, Buttercup cast her thoughts back to the Gangreen Gang of her childhood, and their prolific leader.

Ace. She rarely saw him anymore, but her gut still boiled when she thought of how she had been manipulated, and how close her blind stupidity had come to costing her sisters' lives. They had never really forgiven her for that, she knew, despite their assurances to the contrary. But how was she to know what he was planning? He was so much older, so much more mature, than any guy she had known back then, and his company had been almost a relief, despite his ludicrous sidekicks and rather crummy living conditions.

Straightening, Buttercup pushed those thoughts aside and set off at a brisk pace. Her appreciation of the day had been soured by her sisters' attitudes. And who was Blossom to give her lectures about relationships anyway? It wasn't as if _she _had never done anything stupid before. And Bubbles…Buttercup smirked meanly. Bubbles had no idea what it was like to have that sort of connection. She was such a goody two-shoes. Neither of her sisters had ever felt the thrill of adventure in the way she had, so how could they possibly understand? Buttercup scuffed her foot along the pavement as she walked, thoroughly angry now. So was so caught up with her own thoughts, in fact, that it took her a while to notice that she had walked straight past her turn-off. She swivelled and made to retrace her steps, before pausing.

It was irrational, but a sudden desire to see Ace again had begun to sweep over her. A little voice inside her warned her of the dangers, but Buttercup brushed it aside with characteristic ease. A quick glance up both ends of the street assured her that she was alone. Without too much thought, she righted and continued on the way she had been going, headed towards the Town Dump, where she knew Ace still lived. It was easy to quell her thoughts and allow her teenage rebellion and anger with Blossom to propel her forwards.

Walking as quickly as was possible without drawing attention to herself, Buttercup reached her destination within ten minutes. Her feet slowed as she approached the once familiar house, tension building within her at the thought of where she was. But there was little time to prepare herself; Ace stood at the doorway as if he had been waiting for her.

His face went instantly blank when he saw her. He had grown relatively little from their younger days, but he still towered over her; scrappy black hair framed his face, and the shadow of a beard darkened his chin. Indeed, his entire persona felt dark. A shiver ran down Buttercup's spine as she approached him.

"Ace," she inclined her head, not sure what to say and uncomfortable under his steady but expressionless gaze. "I-"

"What are you doing here?" his tone was wary, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Buttercup felt a wave of recklessness coming over her, and she stepped forward with a grin.

"Well, it's been _such_ a long time," she simpered sarcastically. Ace inclined his head condescendingly, and pulled a cigarette from behind his ear. Buttercup was reminded forcefully of Butch, and her stomach tightened. "I guess I wanted to see what you were up to."

"Mhmm, you mean this isn't some ploy to bust my ass and throw me in jail for a couple of years?" He took a long drag, and blew the smoke towards her. "You know you shouldn't be here."

"Why not?" she challenged defensively, not liking the way he spoke to her as if she was a still in kindergarten. "I'm not a kid anymore. I don't take orders from anyone."

"Really?" Ace drew out his vowels with irritating laziness. "But you are so _controlled _Buttercup."

She frowned at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean," Ace leaned casually against the wall. "When do you ever do anything you're not told to do?"

"All the time," she snapped. "Nobody told me to come and see you today."

"And I bet you're shit scared, aren't you?" There was a challenge in Ace's voice.

"No."

"Then why are you standing so far away?" he asked quietly, his brown eyes piercing hers. He took a final drag on his cigarette and tucked it back behind his ear. "Why not come closer, if you're so unafraid?"

She had no answer to this. Raising her chin stubbornly, she took several deliberate steps forwards until she was standing directly in front of the former gang leader. He smirked, and as quick as a bird of prey, reached out and pulled her towards him, twisting so that she was wedged between his body and the hard wall of his house.

"That's better," he breathed, his breath smoky and warm. Buttercup knew that she could throw him off of her in an instant if she wanted, but for some reason she remained still as stone. His hands did not move from where they clamped her waist, and his eyes stayed steadily on her face. "Don't you think?"

"You know you can't touch me," she replied with more confidence than she felt. After all, she had not fought anybody for a long time. And Ace certainly looked powerful.

"But you want me to don't you?" he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, his hand moving from her waist to her breast. "You want me to, or you wouldn't be here."

"No," roughly, she pushed at Ace's chest until he stepped backwards, then skirted around him. "No I don't want you to."

"Then why are you here?" Ace didn't look annoyed, just amused. He reclaimed his smouldering cigarette and, noticing her staring, held out the packet for her. "Want one?"

Usually she would have said no instantly, as she had to Butch on the beach. But for some reason she found herself incapable of refusing; Ace's taunts still rang loudly in her ears. Silently, she held out her hand.

The smoke was coarse and painful as she breathed it in, and it took all of her self control not to cough like an amateur. Ace watched her thoughtfully, his head titled slightly to the side as if he were deep in consideration. Buttercup had to admit he had grown a lot handsomer since their childhood. His hair was not so lanky, though still long, and his face seemed less greasy somehow. She could not pinpoint it exactly, but he was just more…more human.

And yet she had never felt as dissatisfied with his appearance.

"Take a picture," he scorned, turning suddenly and disappearing inside his house. For a moment Buttercup hesitated, battling with indecision and the wise voice which told her she should leave. But then she heard Blossom's voice echoing in her skull, _'You remember what happened with Ace, don't you' _and before she recognised what she was doing she had dived after him. After all, she had not come all this way simply to be left standing alone after five minutes. And something about Ace's abrupt movement had intrigued her. It was as if he had come instantly to a decision.

Inside it was smoky and dim; it had the atmosphere of a den, but the room was surprisingly clean. "Discovered your inner housewife I see," she remarked derisively, standing uncomfortably in the lounge room. Ace wandered into the kitchen and returned with a bottle and two glasses. Warning bells began to sound in Buttercup's head-a distant memory of past mistakes and lessons she was supposed to have learnt-but she brushed them off and sat heavily on the floor alongside the gang leader.

"What? Aren't I allowed to care about appearance?" he asked with feigned innocence. She snorted and accepted the drink he handed her. It burnt her throat as she swallowed, so she took a bigger mouthful to hide her discomfort. _Stupid, _whispered something within her. She got rid of that with another swig as well.

"You're supposed to be a dirty drug dealer," she explained, finishing her glass and resolving not to drink anymore. It was strong stuff, whatever it was; already she felt slightly unsteady. But when Ace raised the bottle questioningly, she found herself nodding, and bringing the glass to her lips again as if someone else was controlling her body.

"A dirty drug dealer?" Ace nudged her, for she had stopped talking.

"Yeah! A _dirty _criminal, not some tidy old woman," she rolled her eyes and realised she had emptied another glass. "You've gone soft."

"Hardly," Ace's eyes were like dark whirlpools in the dim light; no, they were actually moving! Freaked, Buttercup closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Ace was a lot closer to her.

"Another drink, Buttercup?" he handed her the bottle this time, and she glanced blearily at the label. She blinked at it, noting in surprise that it was in another language. She was drinking foreign alcohol!

"What is this?"

"Oh, just something I've had for a while," Ace grinned and leaned forwards, his face merely inches from her. Buttercup's head reeled as she tried to lean backwards. How had she gotten against the wall? That didn't make sense. "You know, lying around."

"Yeah," she was, of course, in total control of this situation. She was a superhero, she reminded herself, and she didn't let circumstances get out of hand. She would put up with this for just a minute longer, until her head stopped spinning; then she would leave.

Ace's lips brushed her cheek. They were warm and moist against her skin. Not entirely displeasing. But they weren't what she wanted. "You want to know something?" he asked her huskily, lips moving to the other cheek. His body was almost on top of her by now, and she felt herself getting mad.

"What?"

"One more sip," he brought the bottle to her lips and tilted it into her mouth. The liquid gushed down her throat and she choked. "Good girl. Now, where was I?" He kissed her lips, and she struggled to turn her head away. The room swayed dangerously. "Oh that's right. You want to know something?"

Buttercup couldn't reply. It didn't make sense, her last shred of reason argued adamantly. She hadn't drunk _that _much. Why was she so totally out of it? What was in that stuff?

"Well I'll tell you," Ace's hand brushed her breasts and cupped itself around her neck. "I've wanted you for a long time Buttercup."

_Liar. _This was wrong. She had to get up. But her body was totally unresponsive to her commands.

"A long, long, _long_ time," he hissed in her ear, his voice low and ominous. "And now-" his other hand snaked to her neck- "I've finally got you."

His hands began to squeeze.

Buttercup's utter stupidity hit her with the force of a train. The creep was strangling her! Panic sirens blared in her head, and she struggled viciously. Or she thought she struggled viciously. Her body was lethargic and slow…had he drugged her? And he was strong. Stars began to sparkle in her vision, and she gasped in vain for air. But it was little use. He was simply too powerful.

Her mind began to clamour, and for some strange reason the same image permeated her thoughts again and again, even as the rest of her body began to sag from lack of oxygen.

_Butch. Butch. Butch. Butch. _

Hot tears pricked at her eyes. She had not envisaged dying this way, drugged in Ace's living room, strangled to death by the leader of the Gangreen Gang. That was not romantic. It was not courageous. It was not even _interesting. _It was stupid.

_Butch. Butch. Butch. _

What would Ace do with her body once he had killed her? Throw her in the river? Bury her in his backyard? Return her to her family? Or maybe he would simply feed her to his dogs; she remembered he had terrifying dogs.

_Butch. Butch. _

What would her family say? Her poor sisters. Her poor father. Blossom was right. She should never have come here. It was idiotic. Why did she never listen to her sisters?

_Butch…Butch…_

She was blacking out now. Even a superhero couldn't last forever without air. If only she hadn't ignored Butch at lunch today, maybe none of this would have happened. Why was she so rude to him? She couldn't even remember now.

_Butch…_

Her hands had gone numb. Now her arms. And her legs. She could feel her energy slowly draining out of her. This was it then. This was the end. Buttercup gave a choked cry in the darkness; her head slipped slowly backwards, and hit the wall with a dull thud.

There was a strange roaring her ears. Was death a waterfall? There were no hands around her neck now, so she had to be dead. Maybe heaven was a giant river? But there were loud crashes all around her. That didn't make sense at all; wasn't heaven meant to be peaceful?

"Buttercup!" Male voice. Male voice. That had been a male voice. She was sure of it. And it wasn't Ace's. She tried to open her eyes or make a sound, but she had no power over her own body; she ordered her eyelids to open sternly, but they remained tightly shut. Her arms too refused to obey her; they were comfortable and limp and did not want to be engaged in any more activity. This was ridiculous.

A warm pressure now covered her mouth, and it occurred to Buttercup that someone was kissing her. What an inappropriate time to be kissing, she thought hazily. There was just no need…and she recognised those lips. Yes, she definitely knew this mouth.

And suddenly a gust of air seemed to shoot through her, travelling from her aching throat deep into her lungs and filling her chest with life giving oxygen. Another breath, then another, and another, and at last her arms were obeying her. More air, and the life seemed to be returning to her toes. One more, and her lungs sputtered to life and began doing the job themselves. She was alive.

For a minute all she could do was lie there-why was she lying down?-and breathe. There was somebody beside her; that much she could ascertain without sight. And he was laughing. She could distinctly make out a deep, barking, almost insane laugh echoing around her skull.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and the laughter stopped abruptly. She felt herself helped into a sitting position. There were strong, supportive arms around her, and she sagged into them gratefully.

"Do you have any idea," warm breath washed over her neck, and for a moment she was reminded of Ace. But no, this was not Ace, the voice was deeper, less composed. More familiar. "How many years you just wiped off my life?"

She knew who it was.

Surely she must be dead then. This could not possibly be reality; _her _reality. This was just a delirious passage of time before she truly died, while her brain sorted through all its dreams and fantasies. What a shame. Her body went limp in disappointment and her eyes closed again.

"Buttercup?" his voice was urgent now. In fact, it sounded full of fear. He lifted her up and shook her slightly. "Buttercup say something!"

She tried to make her throat work, but it screamed bloody murder at her and refused to make even the slightest whisper. Perhaps God had taken her voice box away as punishment for the stupid way she had allowed herself to die?

"Buttercup!" the mouth was back on hers, warm and firm. Another breath of air; she wished he would he stop blowing at her like a whale? Figuring she was dead anyway and whatever she did from here did not really matter, Buttercup indulged herself and opened her mouth a little further; her tongue grazed against his lips.

Immediately the comforting pressure of his mouth vanished. "Buttercup you shit," he cursed, though he sounded happy. "Stop messing around. You're killing me. Are you alright or not?"

She would have to tell him, explain to him that she was not alive. He just didn't seem to get it.

"Dead…" she finally croaked, her voice like grating sandpaper.

Another bark of laughter. "You came close, trust me. What the hell are you doing here Buttercup? I've been looking for you all night. Do you understand how near you were to dying? If I hadn't-" he stopped, because a tear had suddenly leaked out of the corner of her eye.

"Not…dead…?"

The arms supporting her tightened somewhat, for which Buttercup was grateful. She felt totally incapable of grasping reality right now. Her throat burned like hellfire, her head was spinning from the effects of whatever noxious poison she had unwittingly swallowed, and her thoughts were slowly emerging from a state of death. All in all, she felt like crap.

"You need to sleep," she was being lain down again. Panic seized her at the thought of being left alone. But he did not for one second release his grip of her, and slowly her fear subsided as she began to slip out of consciousness.

There was a momentary pressure on her forehead. "Sleep, Buttercup."

"Don't…go…"

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise," Butch touched his lips to her brow once more, then settled in to hold her while she slept.


End file.
